


The Sixth Stage of Grief

by ivy_baskin, LB714



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Gen, Grief/Mourning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-16
Updated: 2013-07-16
Packaged: 2017-12-20 08:17:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,755
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/885049
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ivy_baskin/pseuds/ivy_baskin, https://archiveofourown.org/users/LB714/pseuds/LB714
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ginny doesn't want to go back to Hogwarts for her final year, after the war, and when Harry realises why - with a little help from Hermione - he will do anything to help her come to terms with the loss of her brother Fred, even sharing his grief over the loss of his parents with her.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Sixth Stage of Grief

Ginny lay in her bed, staring up at the ceiling. Her eyes were dry and scratchy, though she hadn't shed a tear--wouldn't shed one. She knew one would only bring others, and what if she couldn't stop? If only she could sleep. But every time she closed her eyes, memories of the war came back to her, memories of . . . .

She sat up suddenly, then crawled across her bed to rest her arms on the windowsill, and her chin on her arm. The glass was cool, and she pressed her cheek against it, savouring the feeling. Then, with a sigh, Ginny got out of bed, put on her dressing gown and slippers, and tiptoed out of her room, headed for the garden.

Harry was dozing in his bed--the bed he'd come to think of as his own, though this wasn't his house--when he heard footsteps in the hall. He'd been staying at the Burrow ever since the war ended. He hadn't been formally asked; it was just understood that he would stay with the Weasleys. He didn't know how long he'd stay here, either. He knew that Molly and Arthur considered him a son, and they would balk at the suggestion he leave. So for now he settled in and thought about the future. About the job he would start at the Ministry once Ginny left for her final year at Hogwarts. Life was going on--the school was being repaired, the Ministry was back in business with Kingsley Shacklebolt in charge, and people were healing.

The footsteps continued down the hall and down the stairs, and Harry knew from the direction they came that Ginny had just left her room. Quietly, so as not to wake anyone else, Harry pulled open the door and peered out into the dark hallway. It was silent, so he descended the stairs and followed Ginny out into the garden.

"Ginny," he whispered loudly. "Ginny, are you all right?"

Startling at the sound of a voice behind her, Ginny whirled and then sighed in relief. "Harry." She waited for him to catch up with her, and slipped her hand in his. "I'm . . . okay. Just couldn't sleep, and thought I'd come sit in the garden for a while."

Harry glanced around. The night was quiet--even the garden gnomes were sleeping--except for the occasional rustle of the tall grass by the stream and some restless crickets. "It's late. What's wrong?" He brushed a hand on her cheek, which was still glistening with a tear.

Quickly, Ginny reached for his hand and brought it to her lips. Where had that tear come from? She prided herself on never crying around Harry, not wanting to add to his worries. "Nothing's wrong, Harry." She put on her best reassuring smile, and tugged on his arm. "I just needed some air--so stuffy in my room. Come on, let's go sit in our spot, under the willow." Her smile became less forced as she thought of the moments they'd stolen over the summer to hide beneath that tree, to talk and laugh and kiss and touch . . . . "Our spot," she whispered as she pulled him along.

As much as he relished a little private time with Ginny, especially at night--the house was always filled with people during the day—and although Ron seemed to finally accept that Harry was in love with his sister, he still couldn't seem to leave them alone much. Harry remained rooted, however, for the moment, tugging her hand. "You'd tell me, though, wouldn't you? If something was wrong?"

Ginny closed her eyes and sighed. She'd been fighting off a deep sorrow all day, and Harry's concern was threatening her control. "Harry, I don't want to talk about . . . I don't want to talk right now. Can't you just . . . come with me, hold me for a while?" She looked at him, pleading with her eyes. "Can you do that for me tonight, please?" She took both his hands in hers, and again tried to urge him toward the willow.

This time Harry allowed himself to be pulled along. He didn't want to push her. He knew all too well what it felt like to bury feelings that you weren't ready to talk about, so for now he'd leave her be. For now. "Okay. Anything you want."

Ginny raised an eyebrow at his words. "Mmm, that sounds more like it," she teased. She led Harry to the tree, and pulled him down with her, leaning against the tree and encouraging him to do the same. "Isn't it beautiful out here tonight, Harry? Look at the moon." Maybe, if she changed the subject enough times, she could keep Harry from worrying about her for a while.

Harry followed her eyes up to the sky. The moon was full and bright, the sky clear and dotted with stars. "It is." He looked back at her face. "I've always loved it here," he said. "I've always felt . . . safe here."

Ginny bit her lip and tried not to shiver. "I always did, too," she whispered, wrapping her arms around Harry and holding on tight, as if this physical contact with the person she loved most in the world could chase the memories away. "There has to be someplace in the world we can feel safe, right?" But as soon as the words were out of her mouth, Ginny regretted them.

Harry felt a slight tremor from Ginny and berated himself for not thinking to grab a jumper on the way out. He wrapped his arms around her, too, hoping he could offer her some comfort. "I'll never let anything happen to you, you know that, don't you?"

Planting a kiss on his neck, Ginny scooted in closer, wanting to feel his arms around her forever. "I know, Harry, I know. But . . . ."

"But what?" He looked down and tilted her head so he could see her eyes.

Looking into those beautiful green eyes, Ginny found it hard to evade his question. "Harry," she whispered, "there's no protection from memories, you know? And the war has left so many . . . sad memories." She rested her head on Harry's chest, sighing heavily. "I'll be all right," she murmured. "I don't want you to worry about me."

"It's my job now to worry. Or it will be, once I start working as an Auror. Is that what you're worried about?"

Ginny hugged him even tighter. "No, don't remind me!" She looked up again and tried to smile.  "I will worry about you, I can't help that. But I was thinking about other things." Staring up at the moon again, Ginny struggled to find the right words. "I'm going back to school soon . . . back to Hogwarts." She paused, not sure how much she wanted to say just yet.

Harry ran a comforting hand up and down her arm. "I envy you in a way. You'll be going back where it's safe for the first time in . . . who knows how long? And I'll visit you as often as I can." He pulled away slightly, so he could see her face again. "As often as you want."

Ginny smiled up at him. "Every day wouldn't be often enough." She reached up to bestow a light kiss on his nose. "Maybe then I could . . . ." She hesitated, looking down at the ground, but scarcely noticed the small garden gnome that was wriggling its way out from between two tree roots. "Harry, I don't want to go back to Hogwarts," Ginny said abruptly.

"What?" Harry blinked. He didn't expect this. "You have to go back. You only have one year left."

"I know . . . it's not that I don't want to go to school, it's . . . ." She made a face and sighed, then sat up and hugged her knees to her chest, shivering again. "I don't know if I'm ready to see Hogwarts again, not yet," she whispered.

Harry pulled her in close. He knew the teachers and the Ministry were working on repairing the school, but he also knew how shocking it will be for everyone to return to the school after what happened. "Do you . . . do you want me to come with you? The first day, at least?"

Ginny's head whipped around and she stared at him, her mouth slightly open in wonder. "You'd do that for me, wouldn't you?" she said quietly, and she lifted her hand to stroke his cheek. "It can't be easy for you to think about going back there, either. Don't tempt me--I shouldn't let you do it."

The truth was, he wasn't sure he was ready to go back there, to see it again, to face all of those memories. But he'd do it for Ginny. He'd do anything to make her feel safe again. "If it will make you feel safe, I'll do it. You have to go back there eventually." He added, more quietly, "We all do."

Ginny leaned in and wrapped her arms around Harry, kissing him gently on the lips.  "I know. But must we talk about it now? I just . . . I just want to be here with you, and not think about anything else." She rested her head on his shoulder, carrying them both back as she leaned against the tree again. "Just hold me," she whispered, closing her eyes and snuggling in closer.

Harry nodded and started to slide down the trunk of the tree, pulling Ginny with him. He settled on the cool ground, his arms wrapped protectively around her. For now, he would leave her be. He'd find out what was bothering her eventually.

******

_Fire . . . fire and smoke everywhere, getting down her throat and choking her, burning her, so that she couldn't call out. And there was rubble everywhere she looked, too--how would she ever find him? Scrabbling over another mountain of broken, ruined Hogwarts wall, Ginny squinted, wiping the stinging, gritty sweat from her eyes. It felt as if the very stones were holding her back, keeping her from seeing. Frustrated, she climbed over them even faster, determined to find him . . . he had to be there, he had to be . . . alive. Then, the familiar shock of red hair, framing a still, lifeless face, eyes that would never flash a smile at her again . . . ._

Restless and frightened from the dream and unable to escape it, Ginny gave a quiet, despairing sob as she slept, and she stirred in Harry's arms, as if she were trying to run toward something invisible to the waking world.

The movement woke him--he'd only been dozing a little while. Ginny squirmed in his arms and whimpered. "Ginny," he said softly. "Ginny, wake up."

Ginny came awake with a gasp, looking around wildly. "What . . . where?" As she slowly realised where she was, Ginny sighed and slumped against Harry, clutching his pyjama top in her fingers to reassure herself of his solid presence. "I'm okay," she murmured, "I'm okay."

Gently rubbing her back, Harry said soothingly, "Yes, you are. You're safe now." But still, he worried. What was troubling her so?

That look of worry on Harry's face . . . Ginny bit her lip and silently cursed herself for putting it there. He'd suffered enough, she didn't want to add to it. Hitching a smile on her face, Ginny reached up and caressed his cheek. "Just a bad dream, Harry. Nothing to worry about. But," she looked back at the house, "we should probably go back inside. If Mum finds us out here, we WILL have something to worry about." She jumped to her feet, still smiling and holding his hand.

Dawn was slowly creeping up on them, and Harry realized Ginny was right. They should get back inside, to their respective rooms. But he wasn't going to forget about this night. Something was bothering Ginny and he was determined to find out, one way or another.

 

******

 

Harry wandered down the corridor, glancing at the doors as he passed each one. He waved to passing wizards and witches--after all, everyone knew him here at the Ministry. Even after the war he couldn't escape the fame bestowed upon him. It was something he'd come to accept, even though he didn’t embrace it.

At last he reached the door he was looking for. It was open, and in the far corner of the large room was a desk where a young woman with long brown hair (that was once very bushy) sat, sifting through a sheaf of parchment and talking to herself. Harry approached cautiously and cleared his throat when he reached the desk.

"I never dreamed," Hermione muttered, "that I'd actually be able to implement some of my S.P.E.W. ideas.  I wonder if I could get this by Thaddeus— What?"  She looked up quickly, blinking at the sound of a polite *ahem* and then smiled broadly. "Harry! It's good to see you--how are you?" Hermione jumped up quickly and ran round her desk to pull Harry into a massive hug.

"I'm fine," Harry said, taken by surprise and laughing. "You seem to be keeping yourself busy," he added as he released her. "Does Ron know that you're still on about SPEW?"

Hermione smacked him lightly on the arm and made a face. "As you very well know, it's S.P.E.W., not spew. You've been listening to Ron too much. But forget that."  She looked at him curiously. "Are you really all right? You look . . . worried, Harry."

"I'm fine. It's not me, it's . . . " He paused glancing around at the other Ministry officials in the room. He didn't feel like airing his personal concerns where gossiping ears could hear. Rita Skeeter had written enough about him over the years and was just looking for some more juicy tidbits to fill her column. "Take a walk?"

Giving him a worried look of her own, Hermione nevertheless grabbed her wand and pocketed it. "I'm meant to meet Ron at . . ."—she hesitated—"George's store, we're going out for lunch. You and I can take the long way there, and talk." She headed out of her office with a glance over her shoulder at Harry.

Harry waited until they were clear of the Ministry to speak. Hermione didn't press him. It wasn't until they were on the street, fairly clear of Muggles, that he began. "It's Ginny," he said with a sigh.

Hermione looked at Harry appraisingly.  "Ginny . . . I thought she looked rather tired the last time I saw her. What's going on, Harry?"

"I'm not sure," replied Harry, gazing up at the sky. "The other night she had a nightmare, but she wouldn't tell me what it was about." He considered his next words. "And she said she doesn't want to go back to Hogwarts."

"Ah," Hermione said, a knowing expression on her face. "I'm not surprised."

Harry stopped walking and blinked. "You're not?"

"Of course not," Hermione said, staring at him. "What--you don't know why?" She shook her head in disbelief.

Slightly annoyed that Hermione once again got the better of him, Harry scowled. "No, of course not. That's why I'm asking you."

Hermione pulled Harry aside into a little alcove between two of the shops, so they had a bit more privacy. "Harry, think about it for a moment. Ginny--and a lot of other students--are going to walk into the Great Hall on the first of September for the first time since the war. What do you think they're going to see, to remember?"

Harry gazed down at her, then out at the street, at the Muggles passing by oblivious to the two wizards. The Great Hall--the last time he walked through it was after Voldemort was destroyed. The place was in shambles--rubble everywhere, broken glass, bodies. Bodies. Remus and Tonks, Fred . . . Fred! "Blimey," Harry whispered.

"Exactly."  Hermione nodded, and then sighed. "Every time she walks into the Great Hall, her eyes will be drawn to the spot where her brother's body was laid out. Not to mention the classmates she lost, and teachers . . . . I don't know how any of them are going to cope."

Harry leaned back against the wall, mentally exhausted. "All this time she's been carrying that around with her. All we've been through--and she lost a brother." He looked sternly at Hermione. "I've got to do something. I can't just let her continue to have nightmares and be terrified to go back to Hogwarts."

Looking at him sympathetically, Hermione placed a hand on his arm. "I know you want to protect her, Harry. But what CAN you do? She hasn't talked to you about it yet, I gather. You'll just have to be there for her, and when she's ready, she'll tell you how she's feeling."

"Maybe," Harry said, but a plan was already at work in his mind. "Thanks, Hermione. I have to go. Say hi to Ron for me!" And with that, he took off down the street.

Hermione stared after him, blinking.  "Okay, Harry . . . I will." Frowning slightly as she tried to figure out what had just happened, she finally shrugged and continued on her way to Diagon Alley.

 

******

 

Harry waited a few days to see if Ginny would open up. It became clear, however, that she wasn't going to speak to him about what was bothering her. Every time Harry brought it up, she cheerfully changed the subject. Harry suspected that she was doing so to protect him.

It was early afternoon when he approached her in the parlour.

Ginny heard footsteps behind her, and looked up from the pile of freshly washed robes she was folding. "Oh, hi, Harry. You know, I think Mum has put a Gemino curse on the laundry--there are twice as many robes here as I remember. I'll never get them all in my trunk." She laughed, then walked over and kissed him on the cheek. "What's up?"  She was hoping he would say, "Nothing," that her attempt at humour would continue to distract him from the overly serious mood he'd been in lately.

Harry fingered one of the robes. It had that fresh-cut flower scent he always loved when he'd spent part of his summers at the Burrow before heading off to school. "You're the last Weasley to go to Hogwarts, you know. Well, at least for a while." He smiled and then blushed.

Ginny's jaw dropped a little, and she stared at Harry for a moment before her lips curved into a sly grin. "Why, Harry Potter--what are you suggesting?"  She stepped closer and slipped her arms around his waist, pulling him close to her body and enjoying the pink flush on his cheeks.

"It would be a shame if there were no Potter/Weasleys at Hogwarts to cause trouble." He leaned in and kissed her lightly. "I suppose we'll have to give McGonagall some peace and quiet for a while." He paused, then took her hand. "Come on. I have something I want to show you."

Surprised and pleased as she was at Harry's comments about the future, it took Ginny a moment before she realised what he was saying. "Wait," she said, suddenly feeling nervous and wanting to put him off. "Where are we going? Mum will go mad if I don't get these packed tonight, Harry."

"You'll be home well before she even notices. Come on." He tugged on her hand and gestured toward the front door.

Ginny eyed him suspiciously.  "Why do I have the feeling you're not taking me someplace where we can snog each other senseless?" Trying to make a joke of his request, she tugged back and winked. But she still had a feeling she couldn't quite shake that Harry was up to something. He'd been asking her for days about how she was feeling, about her dreams.

He didn't have the heart to tell her that she likely wouldn't feel much like snogging once she saw where they were going. So instead, he smiled and led her into the yard and said, "Do you trust me?"

She melted a little at the look on his face.  "Of course I do," she said softly.  "I trust you to the end of the world, and beyond."

"Well, we're not going that far, but hold on." He squeezed her hand gently, then Apparated.

They arrived on a quiet side street. In the distance, Harry could see a few of the villagers milling about, but no one took any notice of them.

Curious, Ginny looked around.  "Where are we, Harry?"  She did not let go of his hand.

"Godric's Hollow," he replied, leading her down the street and around the corner. They were now on the main road that ran through the village, with small shops on either side and houses further down.

She drank in everything, looking around in wonder as she let Harry guide her down the street.  "This is where you were born," she whispered. Ginny couldn't find the words to tell him how much this meant to her, to see this place. Finally, she turned to Harry, a question in her eyes as she squeezed his hand.

"And where my parents died," he stated, as they approached the very site. The house appeared only to magical folk, and it was just as it had been the last time he'd been here.

Ginny gasped quietly as they stopped in front of the ruined house. As she stared at it, taking in the sad history of this place--Harry's sad history--she suddenly felt oddly connected to him in a new way. They had both lost so much--though, really, he had lost more, and had lived with that loss far longer than she had. Ginny leaned in, sliding her arm around his waist and looking up into his face. "Harry . . . why did you want to come here?" she whispered.

He hadn't anticipated how difficult this would be for her, and now he had his doubts about whether this was a good idea. But they were here, and she might as well see everything. "I wanted you to see. This . . . and more." He held her close, then asked, "Are you all right with this?"

She looked into his eyes, searching them still for the true answer to why they were here.  Ginny could tell he wasn't going to tell her--he wanted to show her.  And suddenly, she was a little bit frightened.

"I'm not sure, Harry," she said bluntly.  "But if you want me to be here . . . I'll trust you."   She took a deep breath in, and squeezed his hand even tighter.

Harry tucked a loose strand of hair behind Ginny's hair and nodded. "Come on. There's one more thing I want to show you." He led her past the house and down toward the main street. They passed a few more shops, then reached the church that he'd first seen last Christmas. Just beyond the building's main entrance was the graveyard. It was through the low wooden gate that Harry led her, finally stopping in front of his parents' gravestone. There was silence.

Ginny's eyes were wide in shock as she stood, frozen, in front of the graves.  Her lips moved as she silently recited to herself the names on the weathered stone in front of them. "Harry," she whispered at last, but she didn't know what else to say.  As she continued to look at the grave, the image of another--much newer--stone with another name on it overwhelmed her, and a tear rolled down her cheek.  Hardly realising what she was doing, Ginny knelt down and reached out to touch the cold stone. "Harry," she began again, "why are we here?"

"Because this is where they're buried. My parents." He took her hand and brought her to her feet. "They're here, Ginny." He touched his chest. "They've always been here, and they'll always be here. That didn't stop when they died. And . . . "

She stopped him, putting a hand over his, pressing into his chest. "I know . . ."  Ginny faltered, looking back at the grave. She took a deep breath and went on.  "I know what you're trying to say, Harry. It's just that I wonder sometimes if that's enough. Every day I think . . . I think . . . ."  She couldn't go on, and leaned in to rest her head on his shoulder.

"About Fred," he finished for her. "I know. You've been keeping it all in, but I knew something was bothering you. I just didn't put the pieces together until now. As Hermione is so fond of saying, sometimes I can be really thick." He turned to face her. "When I lost my parents, I was only a baby. But you _just_ lost your brother. It's going to take some time to . . . I don't know, accept it." He touched her face, caressing her cheek, which had grown cold despite the warm summer day. "You don't have to do it alone, Ginny."

Another tear escaped, and soon more were falling, unchecked. Ginny quickly wrapped her arms around Harry, hugging him tight. "I didn't want to put another burden on you, Harry," she said, her voice catching on each sob. "You've had enough.  And I'm afraid. If I think about it too much, I might . . .  I don't know what I'll do."

"That's why I brought you here," he said with a gentle voice. "You've been keeping it to yourself for too long." He tilted her chin up so he could look into her eyes. "You don't need to worry about me, Ginny. Nothing you could do or say would ever be a burden to me. You've been there for me all along. It's time for me to do the same for you."

Ginny looked into his eyes for several moments, scarcely breathing. Finally, she gave a long, shuddering sigh, and wiped her cheeks with the back of her hand.  "I . . ." she whispered, and then paused. Closing her eyes for a moment, she looked at Harry again. "I miss Fred so much," she said at last.

"I know," Harry said quietly and wrapped his arms around her and pulled her in tightly. He wished with all his heart that he could take her pain away.

Ginny rested her head on Harry's shoulder, letting his warmth envelop her, allowing him to give her comfort at last.  "Of all my brothers," she continued quietly, "I always thought I was most like Fred.  I felt closest to him.  And now . . . ."  She heaved a deep sigh, allowed another tear to escape.  "Now, I feel as if a piece of myself is missing."

Harry nodded but remained silent, thinking. Then he said, "It is. But . . . I don't think Fred would want you to be so miserable. Fred, remember?"

She gave a watery chuckle, her cheek still nestled against Harry's shirt. "He would consider it a personal insult, I'm sure, to see me still crying. Laughter, life--that's what Fred was about."  Ginny paused for a moment, going over precious memories of her brother in her mind. "But that's why it's so hard for me to accept he's gone, Harry. It's just so . . . unfair. Fred should be here, with George, with us, now that the war is over."

Harry rubbed her back and thought for a minute. "He should be here," he said, "but he's not. And it's unfair, yes." He nearly choked on his words, then, remembering the sight of Fred's lifeless body on the floor of the Great Hall. "But we have to go on, Ginny. Fred would want that. He'd want you to play Quidditch and beat the Slytherins. He'd want you to sneak out at night and steal biscuits from the kitchen." He chuckled then, remembering the day Fred and George gave him the Marauder's Map so that he could sneak out of the castle and go to Hogsmeade. He pulled away then, and placed his hands on Ginny's arms. "What he wouldn't want you to do is lock yourself away and cry for him."

Ginny looked into Harry's eyes, and then slid her hands up his arms, squeezing just a little, reassuring herself that he was there, solid and real and alive.  "No," she admitted.  "He'd send an entire box of Decoy Detonators after me if he could see me right now.  And I'd deserve it." Her smile grew stronger at the thought, and then her expression changed, becoming serious; she reached up to stroke Harry's cheek.  "And he'd remind me that I have you.  He was very happy about that, you know. Even gave me his 'approval' last year." Ginny chuckled at the memory. "As if that made a difference to me." She pulled Harry in close then, wrapping her arms around him and trying to block the sudden image of him lying limp in Hagrid's arms on that terrible day, of how close she had come to losing HIM.

For a while, Harry just held her, reassuring her that he was there, that he wasn't going anywhere, and that the nightmare was over. He kissed her head and pulled back and said, "I'm not going anywhere, Ginny, ever. I'll always be here for you." He took her hand and glanced back one more time at his parents' gravestone. "Ready to go home?"

Ginny followed his gaze, and then studied him for a moment, worried that coming here had stirred up too many emotions for Harry as well. Satisfied he was all right, she said, "Just one thing."  She pulled out her wand and, with a graceful swirl, two white roses appeared out of nowhere and floated down to rest in front of the stone.  She turned back to smile at Harry. "From the two of us, to the two of them.  Now we can go--but not home yet. There's someplace else I need to go."

Harry glanced at the roses and smiled. For a moment, tears welled up in his eyes, but he quickly wiped them away. Yes, he would always miss his parents, but he had Ginny now. Someone to take care of. "Wherever you want, Ginny." He took her hand and squeezed it gently.

One quick kiss on Harry's cheek, and then Ginny squeezed back.  "Come with me," she whispered, and then turned and Apparated them both out of the graveyard.  Holding onto Harry made the twisting, dizzying trip more bearable, and then a moment later, they arrived.

Ginny took a deep breath as a breeze flowed around them and made the long grass of the lush, green meadow wave and dance around them.  They were just over the hill from the Burrow, and her attention was drawn to a corner of the field, where a little fence enclosed the Weasley family cemetery.  With a sigh, she turned and looked at Harry.

Harry nodded. He knew why they were here, and he knew how hard it was going to be for Ginny. "It's all right. We'll go together," he said, still holding her hand.

"Just this first time, I need you to be with me," she said, her eyes welling up with tears again.  "I haven't been since . . . since we . . . ."  Ginny couldn't quite finish the sentence; she tried to smile, and then just started walking toward the cemetery, holding tight onto Harry as they walked, side by side, across the field.

It was such a clear, sunny summer day that Harry almost couldn't believe he was visiting two cemeteries in one day. As they passed through the low gate and entered the small graveyard, he caught sight of something on the newest plot. Scattered around Fred's gravestone were the remnants of Exploding Snap and some fire dragons. "Looks like someone was here already," he said with a chuckle.

"Mum said that George comes every day," Ginny said quietly, feeling a little guilty at the thought. Taking a deep breath and still gripping Harry's hand for comfort, she moved forward, coming to stand in front of the stone--and then gasped.  There, on the gravestone and right under Fred's name, was an enormous moustache, which twitched back and forth mischievously, almost as if it knew someone was there.

Harry couldn't help it. He burst out laughing, then immediately caught himself. "I'm sorry, Ginny, it's just . . . it's really . . . perfect."

Ginny bit down on her bottom lip, trying hard herself to prevent a stream of giggles from escaping, and then she just let go.  Between each chuckle and hiccough and full-out laugh, she managed to say, "No . . . no, Harry, it IS perfect.  And it's . . . just what he would want.  Oh, Fred . . . and George!  No one else could have done this but George."  She leaned on Harry, feeling weak from all the emotions now rippling through her. "I'll bet Mum was ready to kill George when she saw this--IF she's seen it."

She reached out to touch the moustache, both curious and wanting that brief contact with her brothers, and then jumped back with a squeak when suddenly two long, purple-clad arms emerged from sides of the stone, one holding a hat, one a rabbit.  The simple magic trick performed itself, and then started over again--it was smaller version of the figure on top of the Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes shop.

Now Harry really couldn't control himself. He looked at Ginny and lost it, lost in the laughter, in the absurdity of the moment that was both tragic and hilarious. Even in death, Fred had left his mark.

Shocked at first, Ginny was soon almost collapsing against Harry, weak from her own laughter.  It was almost too much, too strong a reaction, but in a way, it helped her.  It broke down the sorrow, the grief that had controlled her up to now, and made Ginny see that THIS was the way Fred would want to be remembered: with tears of laughter, not tears of sorrow.

At last she dropped to her knees in front of the stone, wiping away the dampness on her cheeks.  She looked up and took Harry's hand, pulling him down beside her.  "Thank you," she whispered, letting her head rest on his shoulder.  "For helping me face this. I'd been dreading it, but now . . . now I'm okay."

Harry tilted her chin so that he could see her face, see the truth in what she was saying. He still saw pain, but less than days before. "We'll get through this together," he said, then turned once more to the gravestone. As if in response, a tongue emerged below the moustache and showered Harry and Ginny with a big, wet raspberry.

 


End file.
